


The Room Next Door

by dierdele



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M, and then stadium smut in the infirmary, jan helps him to feel better, sexting smut, winks gets a mild concussion, with background deledier smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-10-24 21:55:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20713160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dierdele/pseuds/dierdele
Summary: Harry wakes up at 2am to the sound of Eric and Dele fucking next door. He decides to text Jan about it, but before he knows it, he's got his hand in his boxers, and Jan is saying things that are making Harry's head spin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt: 'Jan and Harry having their separate hotel rooms on either side of Eric’s, and at midnight they wake up to the sound of loud banging and Sex noises coming from Eric’s room. Jan text Harry and is all like ’Dele and Eric are fucking their problems away’ or something along those lines and he responds with something like ’finally’ and then they somehow manage to end up sexting which they’ve never done before.'
> 
> Thank you to the anon on Tumblr who sent me this! I hope this lives up to expectations. 😘

"Substitution for Tottenham Hotspur. Coming off the pitch, number one, Hugo Lloris. To be replaced by number eight, Harry Winks."

Harry bounces on the sidelines and then stops suddenly. Panic rises up inside of him.  _ What? _

Pochettino hands him goalkeeper gloves and claps him on the back. He's talking tactics, back lines, where the opposition are attacking from. Mousa Dembele is there too, he's explaining to Harry that there's going to be a penalty shootout at the end. Nothing makes any sense. Why is Mousa here? And more importantly, why is Harry going in goal!? 

There's a loud thud somewhere in the background of Harry's mind. Thunder, maybe? He wonders if the storm will delay the penalty shootout. Another thud, louder this time. The pitch becomes distorted and Harry realises he doesn't even know who they are playing, or why. He’s still bouncing on the sidelines, trying to listen to Mousa’s instructions. Pochettino has gone and there’s no substitution bench - it’s just him and Mousa and looming penalty shootout. 

The sound of giggling and a final thud makes the pitch melt away completely. Darkness inhabits every corner of Harry's brain until he feels the fogginess fade. He slowly blinks himself awake and stares up at the ceiling through the darkness. 

With a sigh of relief, he rubs his eyes with the back of his fingers. He's not going to do a penalty shootout because it was all just a dream. He's safe in bed in his hotel room, somewhere in the quiet area of Athens.

The thudding noise suddenly strikes against the wall again. Harry drags himself into a seated position and looks at the wall in alarm. Something must have fallen off, like a painting or a photo frame, or maybe the storm is real, or maybe the hotel is-

_ Diet! _

Dele's giggle seeps through the thin wall that separates Harry's room from Eric's. It's Dele's laugh that follows the thudding noises and Harry quickly realises Dele must be in Eric's room, maybe playing Fifa or something. Maybe it's late and everyone is awake already. 

Harry leans over and picks up his phone. 2:13am.  _ What the fuck?  _

He has an unread message from Jan, sent 11 minutes ago. 

** _Are you hearing this??_ **

Harry stares at the wall again through the darkness and tries to process what is happening. He counts the seconds of silence,  _ one… two… three,  _ before another loud bang hits the wall and he feels himself jump a little, his breath hitching in his throat.

The noise isn't followed by a giggle this time. It's followed by a moan. Dele's unmistakable voice rolling out the syllables of Eric's name in a way that definitely cannot be attributed to Fifa. 

_ What are they doing!?  _ Harry texts back. Jan reads the message and immediately begins typing.

** _What do you think!? They are fucking again no?_ **

_ I thought they didn't want everyone to know??  _ 😩

It's true that Dele and Eric are fucking, but it's not public knowledge. Most of the team don't even know yet. Harry only knows because he walked in on Dele sucking Eric off in the dressing room late after training one evening. It's an image he still hasn't been able to get out of his head even though it's been over four months now. Dele on his knees, hands tugging on Eric's hips, and Eric pressed up against the tiled wall but leaning into Dele's mouth. Hands everywhere, clothes wrapped around their ankles. Eric had gasped in horror and tried to cover himself when he saw Harry walk in, but it was far too late. Harry had seen  _ more _ than enough to know that Eric and Dele were a bit beyond ‘close friends’. 

Still, the rest of the team have had the privilege of  _ not _ seeing Dele with Eric's dick in his mouth. So the rest of the team don’t know what Harry knows. Apart from Jan and Harry Kane, because they’ve somehow become trusted advisors on the matter. Harry Kane’s advice was to be safe, careful. Don’t let the media find out and don’t let it ruin your friendship. Jan’s advice was to wear a condom and use plenty of lube. 

** _I dont think they know how thin the walls are _ ** **😂** ** **

_ They woke me up _ 😩😩

** _I havent been able to sleep yet_ **

_ What are you doing? _

** _Listening to Eric tell Dele how many fingers he's going to use…._ ** 😫

_ Oh my god _

_ How many? _

_ Lol _

Harry sends the message and then immediately regrets it. He tells himself it sounds weird to ask that so brazenly. As if he even wants to know, anyway. 

** _They have moved from two to three _ **

** _Dele has asked Eric to ‘fill him up’ twice now _ **

Harry swallows around the lump in his throat. He feels his chest go tight and something in his thigh twitches. It’s 2:15am and he’s thinking about Eric putting three fingers inside of Dele.  _ No,  _ he corrects himself. He’s not  _ thinking  _ about it. He’s actually  _ listening  _ to it. Another one of Dele’s moans seeps through the wall and breaks through the stifled air in Harry’s room. Everything else is silent except for Dele’s quiet moans and the slow rocking of a creaky bed. 

Harry shifts his hips uncomfortably beneath the duvet. He really,  _ really  _ needs to go back to sleep.

_ Thats horendous lol  _

Jan begins typing and then stops. Harry waits, eyes trained on the phone screen in front of his face. He’s holding his phone up with one hand. With the other, he’s trailing soft circles on his lower stomach beneath the duvet.

** _It is not something you usually hear from your teammates…_ **

_ You think they will?  _ Harry types out with one hand.  _ Have sex I mean? you think we’ll have to listen to it?  _ 😩

** _I did not bring ear plugs. I think the reception may have some if you go ask_ **

_ I dont wanna get out of bed lol  _

** _Then yes, I think we will have to listen _ **

_ Great!  _ **😂 ** _ I was having a dream that poch put me in goal lol _

** _Keeper Winksy!? I think you would do good_ **

_ Oh my god i would be so bad lol. Maybe if i was a bit taller  _ **😂**

** _You would have me to help you out _ **

Harry laughs a little under his breath, still amused at the image of him in goal. Toby and Jan would have to do  _ all  _ the work or else Spurs would be conceding goals every other minute. He imagines Aguero coming straight at him, his right foot ready to strike. It happens almost in slow motion - the contact, the ball flying through the air, Aguero watching and waiting to celebrate, and then Jan’s perfectly-timed block. A knee or a foot that sends the ball on a different trajectory, away from the goal and away from danger. He imagines the relief flooding through him as Jan turns and nods at him, his mouth slightly parted, expression focused. 

It’s only when Eric’s bed post hits against the other side of the wall that Winks is pulled out of his daydream. He glances down and feels a hot blush creeping up his neck when he realises he’s moved his hand down from his stomach to the waistband of his boxers. Not only that, but he’s now semi hard, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the sex noises from next door or from the image of Jan ‘helping him out’. 

Before he can stop himself, his fingers type out a reply that he knows he will 100% regret when he’s back to thinking clearly. When it’s not 2am and his room isn’t filled with the sound of Eric burying three fingers deep inside of his best friend. 

_ How will you help me out? _

_ Lol _

** _It is my job as a defender no? We look after our keepers_ **

_ Like Eric looks after Dele?  _ **😂 **

** _Sounds like he’s doing a good job of it _ **

_ Yeah lol. Dele’s been quiet for a while _

** _Maybe Eric has gagged him _ **

_ Omg why are you making me think of that lol  _

Harry hits send and tries to ignore the overwhelming sense of shame that comes with sticking his hands in his boxers. He’s getting harder, and he knows he wants to touch himself, but it feels so,  _ so  _ wrong to do it just because he can hear Eric and Dele fucking each other. He can’t stop thinking about the three fingers and about Dele wanting Eric to fill him up. He wonders if that’s what they’re still doing, if Eric is fingering Dele right this second, and if Dele is gagged. He wonders if Jan is thinking the same thing. Wonders if Jan is touching himself too.

_ Its like listening to porn lol  _

He sends the message before Jan has even done typing his reply.

** _Yes it is _ **

** _Are you getting turned on? _ **

Harry freezes and doesn’t breathe for a few seconds. His dick is hard in his hand and he’s still deliberating over whether or not to commit to having a wank. In the other hand, he’s holding his phone, staring at it, reading Jan’s message over and over. 

He squeezes his dick and it responds instantly by sending a warm wave of pleasure up his body. He tells himself it doesn’t matter that he’s turned on, tells himself that his body is just reacting to the noises the way it would if he was actually watching porn. It’s fine. It’s got nothing to do with Dele and Eric and it’s got nothing to do with the image of Jan touching himself. He’s just woken up in the middle of the night half hard and now he’s taking care of it so that he can go back to sleep. That’s all this is.

_ Yh lol, a bit  _ **😂😂**

_ What do you think there doing now?? _

** _Last I heard Dele wanted Eric to finger him over the bed _ **

_ Oh  _ **😂 ** _ haha. I cant believe we can even hear what they’re saying. There so loud  _

** _We should get them back one night _ **

_ Omg how lol? Pretend to have sex when theyre trying to sleep?  _ **😂**

** _Yes _ **

_ What would you do? _

_ Lol _

_ Like bang on the wall?  _

** _And throw you down on the bed a few times_ **

_ We could shake the bed against the wall  _

** _You could shout my name_ **

_ Well youd need to do something to make me shout it  _

_ Lol _

_ Jokes _

** _What would I need to do to make you shout it? _ **

Harry takes a deep breath. His mind mulls over the multitude of ways that Jan could make him scream. In an attempt to savor some dignity, he starts with the things he’s  _ allowed  _ to think about. Like Jan tackling him or Jan making him jump or Jan turning his shower freezing cold as a prank. But then, as his hand picks up a steady rhythm on his dick, he lets his mind wander to a more dangerous territory. Like Jan throwing him down on a bed, or Jan pulling his boxers down to his ankles, or Jan using three fingers inside of him. 

With a sigh of defeat, he tugs on his boxers until they’re at his feet and then kicks them off. He’s got more room to maneuver now, which means he can open his legs more, throw the duvet off himself all together. He switches on his bedside lamp and watches his hand work his cock, pulling slowly, gently, until the beginnings of his precome leak out onto his fingers and make him slick. Somewhere along the way, he summons the image of Eric and Dele in the dressing room again, only this time it’s him and Jan - and Harry is the one on his knees.

He clumsily types out a reply with one hand when he realises it’s been four minutes since Jan’s last text. 

_ Anything _

** _Tell me _ **

_ Dont know lol . You could tickle me  _

** _Tickle you? _ **

_ Yh im rly ticklish _

**Where are you ticklish? **

_ Everywhere  _

** _Where?_ **

_ Stomach _

_ Hips  _

_ Knees lol _

_ Legs _

_ everywhere _

** _So if I touched you everywhere? _ **

Harry’s breath gets caught in his throat again. He tunes back into his surroundings and listens intently as Dele’s quiet whimpers break the night’s silence. Eric’s mumbling something but Harry can’t quite make out what. He can, however, make out the sound of bodies slamming together. They’re definitely fucking now and Dele  _ must  _ be gagged, because all that’s coming out of the room is muffled moans and the occasional  _ shhh, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.  _

_ Touch me everywere  _

_ everywhere _

Harry sends the message and pauses to catch his breath. He closes his eyes and wills himself to stop this. Wills himself to  _ not  _ wank over the sound of Dele and Eric fucking and the image of Jan forcing him down to his knees, touching him  _ everywhere.  _ But he can’t. He doesn’t have the strength or willpower to take his hand off his dick. He’s still touching himself, working himself up and down, letting the precome gather in the heat between his hand and his cock. Even when he slows the pace right down, he still can’t stop. 

** _What else would make you scream? _ **

_ against a wall _

_ lol _

_ you could _

_ Do stuff  _

_ or make me do stuff _

_ so they can hear us _

** _Hear what? _ **

_ moaning  _

** _Who is moaning?_ **

_ you  _

** _Why?_ **

_ cause im sucking you off _

_ Lol _

Harry drops his phone against his chest and closes his eyes again. There’s so much heat around his dick and his whole body is hot and tingly. He can feel the pressure building in his balls, can feel his hips bucking into his hand for more contact. He’s pulling harder now, faster. The precome oozes out of him and keeps him slick enough that he doesn’t need to bother with the lube he brought. Every time he pictures Jan forcing him to his knees, he feels himself getting wetter and more desperate. He wants to finger himself.  _ No  _ \- he wants  _ Jan  _ to finger him. He wants Jan to fill him up. Three fingers, bent over the bed, gagged and moaning. 

** _you are sucking me off _ **

_ Yh . would  _

** _You would? _ **

_ to get them back  _

** _To get them back_ **

_ would be good  _

** _I know you would _ **

_ you thiknking about it?? _

** _Yes_ **

_ What would I be good at? _

** _Youd be good at sucking me off. Good mouth_ **

_ On my knees or laying down? _

** _On your knees_ **

_ Looking up at you _

He’s so close. He’s so fucking close but he doesn’t want it to end, because Jan is actually sexting with him. He’s not backing down, not laughing it off. He’s thinking about it and Harry  _ knows  _ he is. Jan is thinking about Harry sucking him off, and Harry is thinking about it too, and in the space that lies between them, Eric is fucking Dele so hard that the bed won’t stop hitting the wall and the obscenities won’t stop spilling out.

The sudden urge to get out of bed and get physically closer to Jan becomes overwhelming. Before Harry knows what he’s doing, he’s clambering out of bed with his phone and pressing himself against the wall between his room and Eric’s. He leans with his back up against it and then lets himself slide down to the floor so that he’s resting on his heels, knees bent outwards. His free hand grabs clumsily at his dick and he knows he needs to be careful or else he’s going to come too soon. The heat is already pooling and his imagination is conjuring all kinds of explicit images. 

His phone buzzes in his hand. 3 unread messages. 

** _So good winksy _ **

** _Would fuck your mouth _ **

** _Would make you shout my name _ **

_ What else?  _ Harry types back. Every fibre in his body is burning with the urge to come, but he holds back, forces the pleasure back into his stomach where he makes it wait. This is too good to not wait it out, to see how far Jan takes it. 

** _Would press you against wall, pull your hair, make you open your legs_ **

** _Lol. just jokes right? _ **

_ Yh just jokes lol. What next?? Keep going  _

_ Lol _

** _Use my fingers, make you wet_ **

** _Take care of you_ **

** _Fuck you_ **

_ Fuck me _

** _Yeah, I’d fuck you against the wall_ **

** _To get the mb ack_ **

_ to get them back _

_ Jan _

_ Im touching myself _

_ Lol _

** _Me too_ **

_ Fuck _

_ Your turning me on so much lol. Keep going _

** _Would fuck you from behind, then throw you on bed, get on top of you _ **

** _would fuck you like i own you_ **

** _would come in you_ **

The last message is what almost drives Harry over the edge. He’s fallen to the floor, back against the wall, legs spread out in front of him, and he’s jerking himself off painfully slowly. If he goes any faster, he won’t have control over it anymore. 

Behind him, the wall is shaking. The bed hits it every few seconds, and sometimes Dele garbles something, or shouts Eric’s name, or grunts in a way that makes Harry’s head spin. 

He uses what little control he has left to type out a reply. 

_ yh ,fuck , iwould let you. want you to _

_ Want you to come in me _

_ or my mouth. face  _

_ jan  _

** _Winksy_ **

_ jan fuck im so close and im thi _

_ thinkingg _

_ About you coming in me , fuck me against wall _

_ im against wall. now .  _

** _You are? Good. Stadn up, face wall, imagine it_ **

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice. He scrambles to his feet and presses his chest to the wall, leaning his face against it too. He leaves just enough room to fit his hand in, to stroke his cock again. He’s wet and hot and hard and with every tug he almost takes himself over the edge.

_ i am _

** _Good boy_ **

With his head this close to the wall, he can hear everything from inside Eric’s room. He can hear Eric panting and Dele whining and the sound of Eric’s thighs slapping against Dele’s ass. He can hear Dele pleading for Eric to touch him. It sends Harry’s brain into a complete meltdown and he feels himself reaching the breaking point.  _ I’m a good boy,  _ he thinks.  _ I’d let Jan Vertonghen fuck me and come in me and put three fingers in me. _

_ Jan,  _ he texts frantically.  _ Jan i need to . cant hold off  _

** _Winksy, I want you to come for me _ **

** _like i am for you_ **

He wouldn’t have been able to stop it even if he wanted to. Those last five words turn his legs to jelly and he drops his phone, braces himself against the wall, and lets himself succumb to the orgasm. His come spills out of him and into his fist, splatters against the wall and the carpet. It’s all he can do to keep himself standing. 

On the other side of the wall, Dele’s moans get louder and more gravelly. Eric’s saying words that Harry can’t make out, but they must be doing the trick, because then Dele cries out for a moment before the sound gets muffled. Eric’s grunts follow, and then silence. Just the sound of two people collapsing against a mattress.

Harry closes his eyes and keeps himself braced against the wall. The shame and fear hit him in nauseating waves. He can’t bring himself to pick up his phone and read back everything he sent to Jan. He can’t even bring himself to think about what he just wanked over.  _ Fuck fuck fuck. _

A minute passes, and then another. Harry’s phone vibrates on the floor and he thinks he might actually throw up from the nerves. He reaches down for it and picks it up with a trembling hand. 

** _Did you?_ **

Harry gulps down another breath and shakily types out three careful letters. 

_ yes _

did you?

** _Yes_ **

_ are we good? Ok?  _

** _Yes. Was just jokes_ **

_ Yeah lol. Cool. good x _

Harry bites back his smile. He lets go of the tension in his shoulders and stumbles back over to his bed, figuring he’ll sort the wall and carpet situation out in the morning. He can’t quite bring himself to look at it right now. 

** _Dont tell anyone _ **

_ I won’t, dw  _

Harry sits send and then falls into bed. He’s fine, they’re fine. They’re good. It’s just Jan - immature, class joker Jan who always knows how to make him laugh and always has his back. They’re friends, and this was just one of those weird trips across the border, into unexplored territory. Like watching porn. Nothing to worry about, and certainly not something to get hopeful about. Harry takes a deep breath and switches out the bedside lamp. As he settles back into bed, he tells himself this doesn’t mean anything. Tells himself it was a one off. That they both woke up a little delirious and horny and then they said a few things to help each other out. That’s all. 

He checks his phone one last time. 

** _And next time, just come to my room._ **

_ Oh,  _ Harry thinks.  _ Well, fuck.  _   
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare yourself. This is a long chapter.

Harry doesn’t even know how it happened. 

One minute he’s running to collect the ball and the next he’s on the ground, vision dark and blurry, an acute pain screaming at his temple. He rolls around on the ground in an attempt to distract his body from the pain even for just a moment, but it’s no use. The burning sensation in his head continues to send shock waves through his body until he thrashes out, weak and helpless. 

_ Help me! _

He doesn’t know if he’s saying it in his head or out loud. Everything is spinning, blurry, grey. His mouth tastes likes metal.

_ Help me!  _

The spinning slows. He can make out figures of people swarming around him. The medical team, probably, or his teammates. He can’t tell the difference right now. The only thing he’s painfully, acutely aware of is the throbbing in his head. And the sudden need to throw up. 

They sit him up right and force water in his mouth. It tastes disgusting and he spits it out immediately, pushing away the bodies, needing to be horizontal again.  _ Gonna throw up,  _ he tells himself. His fingers scramble at the shirts around him. Purple.  _ Medical team.  _

As his vision slowly comes back to him, he notices there’s another team working around another body next to him. Probably whichever Southampton player he collided with. He remembers running for the ball, and then jumping. An aerial battle which he thought he’d won until the sharp crack and sudden pain in his head told him otherwise. 

“Harry, we’re go… et.. u… ok?” 

Harry registers the grass beneath his fingers and turns his head to the left. His nails dig into soil, wet and cold. The medical team are saying words at him but he can’t focus, can’t put any meaning to them. 

_ The boots.  _ Harry can’t stop looking at the boots of the Southampton player next to him. He can’t see anything other than the boots because the medical staff are in the way, and everything is still a little grey and blurry at the edges. But he recognises the boots. He knows those boots. Yellow, Nike, with the tiny E.D lettering in black. 

_ Eric Dier.  _ It didn’t make any sense. How could it be Eric Dier on the floor next to him? Harry blinks and lets the medical staff force more water in his mouth until the metal taste is washed away. They hook their hands under his arms and pull him to his feet. 

It really is Eric Dier on the floor, swarmed by medical staff who are sitting him up, handing him water, checking him for immediate signs of concussion. Next to him, Dele is crowding the area with a concerned hand on Eric’s shoulder. His mouth moves around soft syllables that Harry can’t quite make out, but it seems to be having the desired effect because Eric nods reassuringly and lets Dele bring the water bottle to his lips.

While Eric is cleared to continue, Harry is taken out of the game and ushered into the infirmary as a precautionary measure. A decision he  _ strongly  _ disagrees with. He’s regained his senses and the pain has subsided to a dull throbbing, so he insists the whole way down to the medical room that he’s good to go. He wants to be back on the pitch, wants to help ensure his team keep their slim lead.  _ We’re already down to ten men!  _ He tells the team doctor.  _ We need this win!  _ The doctor doesn’t care. _ _

The check takes a few minutes and Harry can’t stop fidgeting out of frustration. It seems like every time the doctor is about to let him go, he pulls out another assessment tool, or he asks another question, or he makes Harry focus his eyes on one particular spot in the room.

“You have a mild concussion.” 

“No, I don’t!” Harry argues. He jumps down from the bed and stumbles a little, but it’s only because he’s still got his studs on and the floor is tiled and-

“Winksy.” 

Harry steadies himself against the frame of the medical bed and snaps his gaze to the door. He knows that voice. He’d know that voice anywhere. 

Jan walks into the room and smiles politely at the doctor. “Seb, how is he?” 

“My name is Harry,” Harry interrupts dumbly. He doesn’t realise the words have left his mouth until both Jan and Sebastino are fixing him with a concerned look.

“He has mild concussion,” Sebastiano says slowly, gesturing back to Harry with a somewhat amused smile. Jan claps him on the back before turning to Harry. 

“How are you feeling, Winksy?” He asks, drawing out Harry’s last name in the way that always makes Harry feel a little bit lightheaded. It sounds more like wingsey. Harry likes that. _Wingsey. _It’s nice. Jan’s nice.

“Good, fine, I feel fine,” Harry insists. He lets go of the bed just to show them both how fine he is. “I need to get back, we need to play. We’re already down to-” 

“We won the game, Winksy,” Jan laughs, hand reaching up to ruffle Harry’s hair.  _ Wingsey.  _ There it is again. “Don’t worry about that.” 

“Oh.” Harry lets his shoulders relax. He takes a deep breath and tries to quiet the static buzz in his head. It’s okay,  _ they’re  _ okay. They won the game. Even with ten men. 

“I need to go and shower, but I will see you soon, okay?” Jan says. Harry shakes his head because he doesn’t want Jan to leave. He doesn’t want to be left with Sebastiano who will no doubt make him stay here and do more tests. 

“I’ll come with you,” Harry says quickly. Jan places a gentle hand on his chest to stop him in his tracks. 

“I will see you soon, you need to be checked over.” 

Harry opens his mouth to argue but Jan shakes his head and cocks an eyebrow in warning. He can’t get over how unfair this is - he’s not even allowed to go to his own dressing room! As if concussions are contagious. As if everyone will suddenly lose their balance the second Harry walks in. Not that Harry doesn’t have his balance because he does. He  _ does.  _

Jan leaves the room and closes the door behind him. Harry sighs and turns back to Sebastiano. 

“When can I go?” He asks moodily. Seb smiles warmly at him in return. 

“Soon. But first you need to stay here, and we need to do more tests.” 

\--

It’s 40 minutes later when Harry wakes up  _ still  _ in the infirmary. He doesn’t need to be here and as far as he’s aware, he passed all of his tests. Mind concussion, Sebastiano said, with symptoms of dizziness, nausea, and ringing in his ears. The nausea has gone and the ringing has subsided, but he’s still here because Seb said he has to stay under watch for 60 minutes or else he won’t be cleared to return to training tomorrow. 

Harry clears his throat and stretches his arms above his head. Thankfully, the grogginess has mostly cleared now. He sits up on his uncomfortable infirmary bed and searches around for his phone. He vaguely remembers Jan had brought it in with him when he visited earlier. 

_ Jan.  _

Jan had visited, but only briefly. He’d been wearing his kit and studs and he was brushed with mud and grass stains. His hair was tousled and his skin pale, with a thin sheen of sweat and rain. They’d exchanged words about winning the game and then Jan had carefully wrapped his hand around the back of Harry’s neck and pulled him in for a delicate kiss. Harry remembers it so vividly - the feeling of Jan’s mouth. Soft lips, the welcomed scratch from Jan’s ginger beard, and the quiet exhale of breath that followed. 

Harry thought he’d dreamt it, but as he spots his phone on the cabinet across the room, he realises that it was all real. He really had kissed Jan.  _ Finally.  _ After weeks of waiting for something to happen, he’d finally kissed Jan.

But the more he tries to remember what happened, the blurrier the memory becomes. He can’t remember if Jan had been wearing the home kit or the away kit. In his head, Jan is in the navy blue, but that doesn’t make any sense. Harry is in white, they’re all in white - they’re at home. But why can he only picture Jan in the navy? Kissing him, whispering his name, pushing him down onto the bed before bending down and planting a kiss firmly on Harry’s exposed hip bone. 

_ No, no, no.  _ It wasn’t real. Harry closes his eyes in disappointment and snatches his phone from the cabinet. He walks back over to his bed and perches himself on the edge. It was a dream. Just a dream. A stupid, mildly concussed dream.  _ Of course  _ Harry hadn’t kissed Jan. 

Three new messages. 

** _I am showered_ **

** _Where are you? _ **

** _Did they move you? _ **

Harry doesn’t even know if he can bring himself to text back. He hasn’t been moved, no, but he doesn’t know if he can see Jan right now. Not after the dream he had. 

It’s been almost two weeks since the night in Athens when Jan had started texting him about Dele and Eric fucking in the room next door. It had spiralled out of control and before Harry knew what was happening, he was jerking himself off against the wall, listening to Eric take Dele apart just meters away from him. But it wasn’t even that which unravelled him. It was Jan’s sexting. It was Jan telling him he was going to fuck his mouth, that he was going to make Harry shout his name, that he was going to fuck Harry up against the wall and come in him. 

It was the ‘ ** _And next time, just come to my room._ ** ’ 

But there hadn’t been a next time. Harry had lingered over it for days, had tried to let Jan know he was… you know…  _ down.  _ He’d even stayed late in training every day to ensure he left at the same time as Jan, just in case Jan wanted to invite him back for coffee and a messy blowjob. It had been useless, though. Jan had smiled and waved at him politely every day before getting into his car and driving off. Four days of Harry going home alone and having to fuck his own hand to rid himself off the consuming need to suck Jan’s cock. 

It was ridiculous, and stupid, and naive. Harry should have known Jan didn’t really mean it. They weren’t actually going to have sex. 

_ How did u first tell eric u wanted him to fuck u?  _ Harry texts Dele one night. 

He’s watching Peaky Blinders alone in his living room and he’s already jerked himself off but the thoughts of Jan have come seeping back in. He just needs to know if this is worth pursuing or if Jan is messing with him. He Googles ‘can you be straight and sext another man’. The results are inconclusive. 

** _Didnt lol. Just dared him to let me suck him off one day and it went from there. why?? you want eric to fuck u lol?_ **

_ No omg haha. Just wondering lol. thx  _

Harry had thrown his phone down on the sofa and sighed in defeat. He’d never have the courage to dare Jan such a thing. 

That was two weeks ago. Two weeks of Jan making it clear that it really was just messing around and now normality had been restored. Jan is living proof that you can, in fact, be straight and sext another man. 

And if that’s how they’re going to be, then Harry might as well just get used to it. He and Jan are friends, and that’s fine. He picks up his phone and begins typing out his response. 

_ No didnt move me. Im in medical still. When can I leave?? _

** _I will come_ **

Harry laughs under his breath. Jan’s English can still be a little rudimentary.  _ I’m trying my best,  _ Harry thinks to himself, sighing in bitter disappointment. 

Jan knocks softly on the door to the medical room and Harry calls out for him to come in. There’s nobody else in there with them, but Seb will likely come back once Harry’s 60 minutes are up. The only light in the room is coming from the dimmed lamp in the corner. It’s quiet, with just the soft hum of the fridge on the other side of the room. 

Everyone else has probably already gone home. The whole stadium seems to have fallen into a low-lit slumber. 

“Why haven’t you left?” Harry asks. He watches Jan walk into the room and stop by his bed. He’s wearing his navy blue jumper and black jeans. He looks nice. He always looks nice. 

“Someone needs to take you home,” Jan answers with a smile, as if it’s obvious. Too many thoughts come barrelling through Harry’s brain. Thoughts about Jan taking him home, Jan unravelling him, Jan coming inside of him. 

He remembers Dele’s text.  _ Just dare him to let you suck him off!  _ He shoves the thought away and forces himself to focus on Jan’s navy jumper instead. Cashmere, probably. Jan likes expensive clothes even though he likes to appear as if he doesn’t.

“I’ll be fine. I can drive,” Harry says. 

“With a mild concussion? I don’t think you can drive, Winksy.” 

_ Wingsey.  _ God, Harry loves that. 

“I can. Seb will be back soon and then he’ll clear me for training tomorrow, which means I can drive home tonight.” 

“I will drive you home tonight,” Jan says. He looks Harry up and down, eyes sweeping along Harry’s chest, his stomach, his crotch, and down to his feet. Is Harry dreaming again? He watches Jan looking at him - assessing him, maybe? 

“I’m fine, really,” Harry sighs. The concern is nice, and everything, but he keeps thinking about that dream kiss and it’s getting him a bit riled up. Enough so that he’s having to tense his thighs and will himself not to get a semi. He kind of just wants Jan to leave so he can have a wank, go home, and catch up on Peaky Blinders. 

“How are your legs?” Jan asks suddenly, and then his hand is on Harry’s thigh, easing his leg out, fingers pressing into sore, tense muscle. 

Harry’s breath catches in his throat and tells himself it’s because his legs are tired and achy, not because Jan’s fingers are pressed against the soft inner of his thigh. 

“Fine,” he chokes out. It feels like something in the room has changed. The fridge has stopped humming, or the lamp has gotten darker. Something is quieter, somehow, because now Harry can hear his own heartbeat. 

Jan wraps his hand around Harry’s thigh and uses it to ease his legs further apart. He peers over, as if assessing the non-existent damage, and them hums in approval. Before Harry can even speak, Jan brushes his fingers down to Harry’s knee.

“Knees okay?” He asks. Harry nods. 

“How about your ankle?” Jan skims his hand down to Harry’s ankle and circles his finger around the bone. 

Harry’s nods again, his mouth running dry as he tries to comprehend why Jan touching his  _ ankle  _ is turning his brain to mush.

Jan’s fingers trail back up Harry’s shin, over the hill of his knee, back to the soft flesh of his inner thigh where they mercifully stop before reaching Harry’s groin. Jan keeps his hand there like this is the most natural thing in the world. 

Harry can barely remember how to speak. 

“You seem tense,” Jan comments. 

All Harry can think of saying is  _ I want to suck you off,  _ but he doesn’t know how well that would go down. He’s acutely aware of Jan’s fingers tapping gentle rhythms against his skin, each press of a finger drawing a shaky breath from Harry’s lungs. 

Something in the room has changed. This feels like the dream, or like the way Harry has imagined them fucking would begin. He’d pictured all of the different scenarios, and most of them start with this - with Jan calmly touching Harry’s body, breaking small barriers until neither of them can deny where this is going. Jan looks just the way Harry had imagined he would. He’s calm, confident. His eyes are dark, hair tousled. The only thing Harry hadn’t anticipated is that it would begin in the infirmary of the Tottenham Hotspur stadium.

“Are you tense, Winksy?” 

Harry nods pathetically. He tries desperately to swallow down the growing lump in his throat. Jan’s fingers are  _ still  _ on him, and he’s  _ still  _ looking Harry up and down. It’s criminal. 

“Do you want me to take some of the tension away?” 

There’s no point trying to hide the semi anymore. Harry has seen it, and so has Jan. They both keep glancing at it, wondering who will acknowledge it first.  _ That’s the first barrier _ , Harry thinks.  _ If we acknowledge it, something is going to happen. _

Harry thinks that maybe if he can summon the confidence to open his legs a bit more, than Jan will  _ have  _ to acknowledge it, and then maybe Harry will pass it off as a side effect of the concussion, or he’ll say he woke up with it, or-

“Are you hard because I am touching you?” Jan asks calmly, his voice low and husky. So much for smashing the first barrier. Jan has just jumped the first five in one.

Jan’s fingers stay pressed to the inside of Harry’s thigh. Harry is laid out on the bed, legs slightly apart, desperation painted all over his face. He just nods when Jan’s questioning gaze locks with his own. There’s nothing else he can do.

“Would this help?” Jan asks, and then he takes his hand from Harry’s thigh and uses it instead to grasp Harry’s dick through his shorts. 

Harry gasps audibly and brings his knees together. This isn’t a dream,  _ this isn’t a dream,  _ Jan Vertonghen is really grabbing his dick right now. All four fingers and his thumb, curled around Harry’s length through the material of his shorts and boxers. The semi very quickly turns into a full-blown erection in Jan’s hand. 

“Jan-” Harry begins. He takes a few shaky breaths and props himself up on his elbows, looking down at where Jan is still groping him, unmoving and unapologetic about his approach _ .  _

“Relax, Winksy,” Jan instructs.  _ Wingsey.  _ Harry loves his name in Jan’s mouth. Almost as much as he loves his dick in Jan’s hand. He wants to stay like this for an eternity. Not moving, not even doing anything, just being completely at Jan’s mercy. 

It only takes the slightest movement of Jan’s hand for Harry to let the moan slip out of his mouth. It vibrates up the back of his throat and escapes him, unbidden. Jan takes it as a sign to continue and squeezes Harry’s cock through the shorts. 

“This is okay?” Jan asks carefully. 

Harry can barely believe the question even needs to be asked. He’s up on the bed, perched on his elbows, heart hammering at 100mph in his chest. There’s nothing in the world he can feel right now except for his dick in Jan’s hand. There’s nothing that has ever felt more okay than this. 

He nods, because it’s all he can do. Jan looks at him for more reassurance and Harry manages to stutter out a noise that sits somewhere between  _ yes  _ and  _ please. _

Jan could probably make him come just from doing this, Harry thinks when Jan squeezes him again. It’s just pressure on his dick, it’s not even skin-to-skin contact, but it’s  _ Jan Vertonghen  _ and he’s in a navy jumper and his hair is nice and his beard is nice and God, Harry really wants to kiss him. Lick him. Suck him off. He wants Jan to climb up on his bed and push his legs open wider, wants Jan to bury two fingers deep inside of him. 

“Relax,” Jan says slowly, his mouth curling into a satisfied smile. Harry tries, he really does, but he’s worried that he’s going to come too soon and he’s worried that he won’t get to suck Jan’s dick and he’s worried that Sebastiano will-

_ Oh.  _ Harry looks down and feels a hot blush colouring his cheeks. Jan has yanked his shorts and boxers down to his ankles in one swift movement, leaving Harry completely exposed from the waist down, except for his socks. If Harry wasn’t so turned on, he’d probably laugh at the absurdity of the image.

Jan doesn’t waste anymore time. He wraps his hand around the base of Harry’s aching cock and smiles when Harry throws his head back, collapsing back onto the bed. Every ounce of blood in Harry’s body rushes to where Jan’s fingers are working around him and it doesn’t take long before he’s leaking precome into Jan’s fist.

“I-” Harry begins, already panting. He leans up again, and then immediately collapses back down when Jan turns his hand slowly but expertly around Harry’s length.

Jan is standing by the side of the bed wanking him off and Harry thinks he might definitely have died out on that pitch, and this is his heaven. Just lots of different scenarios of Jan wanking him off, making him feel completely weightless. 

The slick heat between Harry’s dick and Jan’s hand grows until it becomes almost unbearable. Either Jan has to stop, or Harry’s going to come. 

“Jan-” Harry stammers. His third, maybe fourth, maybe even eighth attempt at forming some kind of cohesive sentence. 

Jan slows down his pace to let Harry collect his thoughts. 

“Is this- are we?” Harry asks. He doesn’t know what comes next. He’s too busy staring down at Jan’s hand working him. He opens his mouth, tries to finish his sentence, but nothing but a small gasp escapes him.

Still, Jan seems to understand what he’s getting at. 

“I am just helping you, no?” 

Harry nods emphatically. His dick is literally throbbing in Jan’s hand and he can see that Jan’s own dick is straining for attention. He keeps pressing it into the bed frame and Harry wishes Jan would just press it straight into his mouth instead. Every time he goes to reach for it, Jan picks up his pace or turns his hand in a certain way, or swipes his thumb across Harry’s slit, ensuring that Harry is completely and utterly at Jan’s mercy. 

_ Let me touch you!  _ Harry screams internally. He might actually die if he doesn’t get to see Jan’s erect dick in the next three seconds. 

“You are tense, and stressed, and hurt. I am helping you to unwind from the game.” Jan moves his hand in a careful rhythm and watches for Harry’s response when he squeezes the head. It results in more precome leaking out of him, which Jan happily takes into his hand and uses to make Harry’s already wet and desperate dick even slicker. The noises alone are enough to send Harry over the edge.

But there’s something else playing on his mind right now, so Harry quickly props himself up and brings his hand to his mouth. He bites down hard on the back of his index finger to halt the build up of pleasure for a moment. 

“Do you- do you do this, with others? With Toby?” Harry chokes out. Jan’s words are buzzing around his brain.  _ I am helping you to unwind from the game.  _ He can’t help but wonder who else Jan helps, which other teammates Jan has wanked off after a game or an injury.

“With Toby?” Jan asks, an amused grin spreading across his face. He stills his hand on Harry’s dick and draws a whimper out of him. “No,” he says, laughing a little. He moves his fingers back up to the head of Harry’s cock and squeezes it. “No, I don’t do this with Toby, or any others.” 

“No?” Harry asks, breathless. Jan is torturing him here. 

“No.” 

“I thought-” Harry’s sentence is cut off when Jan suddenly starts pumping his dick again. It takes him a moment before he can talk, but he manages to push out the words, even though he feels embarrassed giving voice to them. “Thought you didn’t want me.” 

Jan lets go of Harry’s dick completely and Harry wants to scream at himself for saying something so idiotic, so pathetic. Jan looks almost dejected. He walks further up the bed, to where Harry is trying to keep himself up on his elbows, but now he falls back down with a thud and covers his face with his hands out of frustration.  _ Why  _ did he say that?  _ Why!?  _

Jan peels Harry’s hands away from his face, one at a time. 

“Look at me,” Jan asks softly. Harry shakes his head. 

“Winksy, please?” Jan urges. It’s that word again,  _ Wingsey.  _ Harry’s name in Jan’s mouth, soft and gentle and almost needy. 

Harry opens his eyes and looks at Jan. 

Jan doesn’t bother with words. He simply leans down and presses his mouth to Harry’s in a quiet kiss that leaves Harry speechless. It’s just the way he’d imagined it happening earlier in his dream, with the navy top, the messy hair, the welcome scratch of Jan’s ginger beard. But this time it’s real.

“I was waiting for you, no?” Jan explains with a bemused smile. He leaves only an inch between them before he leans back in and captures Harry’s mouth in another gentle kiss. “I wasn’t sure you understood me.”

“I, oh my God, Jan, I tried so hard to tell you I wanted you,” Harry laughs under his breath. “Why do you think I stayed late all of those times?” 

“You were training?” Jan answers, raising an eyebrow in confusion. 

“I- no. No I wanted you to take me home, that’s why I waited.” 

Jan peers off into the distance, thinking. Harry brings him back into the moment by threading his fingers through Jan’s hair.  _ I’ve wanted to do that for so long,  _ he thinks. The ghost of Jan’s kiss still lingers on his lips and his dick is still hard and leaking, because Jan has brought him to the edge at least three times now.  _ Stay in this moment with me. _

“I am not good at reading hints. You should just tell me what you want,” Jan concludes with one final kiss. He moves back to the middle of the bed, focusing his attention on Harry’s neglected dick. 

He’s about to take it into his hand again when Harry suddenly sits up right. 

“I want to suck you off,” Harry confesses. It comes out a bit shakier than he was hoping, but he’s just glad he managed to get it out at all. It’s a sentence that has been lingering in the back of his throat for too long now. Almost every time he’s seen Jan, whether it be over the breakfast table, in training, in the dressing room, or anywhere, really - Harry has wanted to spill those six words out into the open and let Jan know his intentions. Because like Jan said, he’s not good at reading hints. 

Jan hums in approval, low and gravelly. He chews the corner of his mouth while his hand idly manoeuvres around Harry’s length again. It’s like he’s just  _ playing  _ with him. 

Harry waits with bated breath, his pulse racing in his ears. 

“What does that mean?” Jan asks. He keeps working his fingers up and down Harry’s dick, drawing whimpers and whines and moans that Harry should definitely be trying harder to keep hold of.

“What?” Harry blurts out. How can Jan not know? Jan must know. 

“What does that mean? I want you to tell me what it means,” Jan explains. 

Harry opens his mouth to say something but the words fail him.  _ Do you really not know?  _ Harry wonders, but then he thinks  _ no, you do know. You’re just playing with me.  _

“It means I want to suck you off,” Harry whispers. He looks at Jan pleadingly. 

“Tell me, Winksy, explain the words to me.”

“I want-” Harry pauses, draws a deep breath because Jan is playing with his balls now and Harry keeps losing his train of thought. “I want you to let me suck your dick.” 

“Hmm?” Jan hums. 

“Please,” Harry adds, rather pathetically. 

“Please what?” Jan says. The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk. 

If Harry’s dick and balls weren’t currently in Jan’s grasp, he’d probably make a point of saying how utterly frustrating Jan is being right now. 

“Please put your dick in my mouth and let me suck it!” Harry shouts. 

Jan stops and raises an eyebrow. 

“Sorry… I- I just… I wanna…” Harry lowers his voice again and blushes. He  _ definitely  _ shouldn’t have shouted that in the infirmary of his own stadium. There’s not much he could offer in the way of an explanation if anyone overheard. 

Jan pulls his navy jumper off in a matter of seconds. Harry’s gaze is immediately drawn to his chest and abs, and the little trail of hair that leads down to Jan’s waiting erection. The exposed hip bones, the perfectly tanned skin, the broad shoulders… it’s making Harry’s dick twitch in ways that would suggest Harry has never seen Jan topless before. 

What happens next is Jan places his fingers just inside the waistband of his shorts. He looks like he’s about to pull them down in one quick motion, but he doesn’t. He plays around, pulling on the waistband, letting Harry see the beginnings of what’s underneath - but  _ not enough. _

Harry doesn’t even realise he’s grabbed hold of his own dick until Jan clicks his fingers in Harry’s face. 

“No, no, no,” Jan scolds. He clicks his fingers again and just like that, Harry lets go of himself. 

“Good boy,” Jan adds, and fuck if it doesn’t make Harry’s cock leak just that little bit more. “On your knees.” 

Harry kicks off his shorts from around his ankles and slides off the medical bed, landing eagerly on his feet just in front of Jan. When he looks back, he’s a little embarrassed to see he’s left a small puddle of precome on the plastic surface of the mattress.

The playful teasing continues as Jan stretches out his waistband and lets it snap back against his lower stomach. Harry can’t take his eyes off the show. He desperately wants to touch himself, or touch Jan, but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed. So he just takes slow, deep breaths and holds on to the bed behind him for support. He feels more unbalanced now than when he did when he was concussed. 

_ You should just tell me what you want.  _

Harry suddenly remembers Jan’s words and realises that’s how this is going to go. Harry’s really going to have to ask for everything, isn’t he? 

“Please can I suck your dick, Jan?” Harry asks breathlessly. He knows he should be embarrassed saying these words out loud, but this is the position he’s in - and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t kind of like Jan having all of the power. 

Jan responds by pulling his shorts and boxers down to his ankles. His dick stands to attention and Harry has to grip the bed harder for support. 

“Yes,” Jan smiles. He brings his hand to the top of Harry’s head in a gesture that Harry finds a bit confusing, but still sweet. He goes to ruffle Harry’s hair affectionately, or, at least that’s what Harry  _ thinks  _ is happening, but what actually happens is Jan threads his fingers into Harry’s hair and then pushes him roughly down to his knees. 

_ Oh.  _

Harry’s knees buckle and he complies as soon as he realises what Jan is actually doing. 

The cold, tiled floor is hard beneath his knees, but he doesn’t care. His eyes are trained on the pink cock bobbing just inches from his face. Jan is bigger than he is, with neatly trimmed hair and an already wet tip. Harry’s never wanted to taste anything more than he wants to taste  _ that.  _

“I want to-” Harry stops, corrects himself. He loves the power dynamic and wants to keep it going. “May I touch you?” 

Jan looks down at him and nods calmly. 

Harry inches forward on his knees and places a hand around the back of Jan’s thigh to steady himself. The older man’s muscles are warm and tired, but his cock is desperate, twitching. 

Harry has never sucked a dick before. He swallows the lump in his throat and tells himself it will be fine, that Jan will enjoy this. 

Steadily, slowly, he wraps his fingers around Jan’s cock. 

“Winksy,” Jan breathes. His initial reaction to just being  _ touched  _ makes Harry’s head spin. Jan’s cock is warm and wet and hard, and Harry doesn’t want to wait anymore. 

“Can I taste you?” He asks, licking his lips. Jan just nods. 

Harry closes the gap between his mouth and Jan’s cock, but he doesn’t go straight for the gleaming tip because he wants to savour the moment. Instead, he starts at the base, licking all the way up Jan’s length until he teeters on the head. He tastes every inch of him, a mixture of sweat from the game and precome from being hard in his shorts so long, and then something else - Jan’s natural scent.

_ I’d fuck your mouth.  _

That’s what Jan had said in the texts when Dele and Eric were fucking next door. 

_ You should just tell me what you want.  _

Harry takes his tongue away from Jan’s cock just long enough to look up at him pleadingly. “I think you should- I think you should fuck my mouth. Like you said.” 

“Like I said,” Jan repeats. He takes his cock in his own hand and angles it at Harry’s mouth. 

Harry parts his mouth a few centimetres and gasps when he feels Jan’s head brush against his lips. It’s wet, and Harry’s initial response is to push his tongue out, to lick at the slit until he can finally taste Jan’s arousal. His own is leaking onto the floor beneath him, but he’s far too light headed to worry about that right now. 

Jan eases his dick further into Harry’s mouth, inch by inch. He makes small, choked moans when Harry sucks him down eagerly, working his tongue around Jan’s tip and quietly begging for more precome. He closes his eyes for a moment so that he can just focus on his other senses, just focus on taking Jan into his throat as easily as possible. When his gag reflex kicks in, Jan edges out of him, gives him time to adjust. But Harry knows time is not something they have on their side right now. 

“Fu.. m.. -outh,” Harry tries to say, but it’s a bit difficult with his mouth full. Still, Jan doesn’t make him say it twice. 

“Good boy,” Jan murmurs. His fingers are back in Harry’s hair again, pulling it and scratching at his scalp. He curls the tips of his fingers into the back of Harry’s skull and guides Harry further onto his dick. 

This time, Harry is ready for it. He closes his eyes and lets Jan find the rhythm he’s looking for. He keeps his mouth slack, his tongue wet and inviting, and he lets Jan fuck his mouth as if they aren’t in the Spurs stadium right now, as if there aren’t still possibly teammates in the room next door. As if Sebastiano isn’t about to walk through the door any minute.

As if all of those things don’t just make Harry even more turned on. For a brief second, while Jan is cupping his head and fucking his mouth like this is what Harry was made for, Harry imagines Dele and Eric on the other side of the wall, listening to Jan’s grunting and the warm, wet sounds of Harry’s mouth being used. He imagines them jerking off, or jerking each other off. He imagines the whole team listening. 

_ I want them to know,  _ he thinks.  _ I want them to know what Jan is doing to me.  _

And what Jan is doing is borderline obscene. He’s holding Harry’s head, fucking up and into his throat, near brushing his tonsils. He’s moaning far too loudly, and he’s making sure Harry knows how good this is. 

“Look up at me,” Jan instructs. “Do you like this? Me fucking you like this? Is this what you think about when you look at me, Winksy?” 

Harry whines in response. His eyes are beginning to water and his mouth is impossibly hot. He’s worried he’s going to start drooling and Jan will see it. 

“This is why you stayed late, no? Not for training. For me.” 

Harry whines again,  _ yes yes yes, it was all for you.  _

“For this?” 

“-Or -is” Harry confirms clumsily, and he can’t stop himself whimpering when Jan suddenly and unexpectedly pulls himself out of Harry’s mouth. 

“No, Winksy, not for this,” Jan corrects. He jerks his own dick a few times in Harry’s face and Harry shuffles forward on his knees, wanting the taste back on his tongue. 

Jan denies him. 

“Not for this,” he says again. Harry doesn’t understand. It  _ was  _ for this. It was  _ all  _ for this. 

“Jan, please,” Harry stammers. He reaches down to his own aching cock. He can’t touch it too much because he’s already on the edge but he allows himself a few tugs. 

Harry’s hand is suddenly pulled away from his dick when Jan lifts him back to his feet and ushers him to the bed. He’s not sure what to do, what Jan wants, or where he’s supposed to go. Until Jan turns him around, uses a knee to knock his legs apart, and bends him over the bed. 

_ Oh.  _

Jan towers over him and brings his mouth to the cusp of Harry’s ear. “For this,” he whispers. 

Harry swallows thickly and wipes the drool from his mouth and chin. His legs are spread and Jan’s leaning over him, his length pressed between Harry’s ass cheeks. He can feel the hot, slick heat of Jan’s cock brushing against him, leaving a sticky trail of precome.

“For me,” Jan continues. His voice is husky and soft, with the Dutch lilt that Harry can’t get enough of. 

“For you,” Harry nods. 

Jan’s fingers suddenly appear at Harry’s mouth. Two of them prise Harry’s lips apart and then sink against Harry’s wet tongue. He sucks on them eagerly, desperate to please.

“Good boy, Winksy.” 

_ Wingsey. Good boy. Me. Jan’s fingers.  _ Harry’s brain is a mess of incoherent thoughts that all lead back to Jan’s fingers and what he plans on doing with them. 

The fingers are removed from his mouth and Harry feels the warm, wet digits press against his asshole. He whimpers in response and his whole body tenses, which Jan must notice because he hums soothingly and strokes Harry’s hair. 

“Slow,” Jan says softly. His fingers caress Harry’s opening until Harry relaxes into the touch and takes a deep breath. 

“We could wait, no?” Jan offers. Harry shakes his head,  _ no.  _ He doesn’t want to wait. He’s waited long enough. He’s waited two weeks for Jan to fulfil his promise, he’s waited four months for Jan to realise Harry has an overwhelming crush on him, and he’s waited about five years for a guy to finally fuck him. 

If Harry had time on his side, he’d turn around and explain with careful words why he absolutely doesn’t want to wait any longer - but time is ticking by, and Harry doesn’t remember how to use words properly anyway, so he communicates his decision by pushing his asshole against Jan’s fingers and whining petulantly. 

“Please,  _ please, _ ” Harry manages. 

Jan teases his index finger on Harry’s rim and Harry thinks he might die or explode or even pass out if Jan doesn’t go inside him  _ right fucking now.  _

“Please what?” Jan asks. Harry can almost hear the smirk. 

His knee begins to tremble as Jan presses the finger to his hole just a little harder, but not enough to actually penetrate him. 

“Please finger me,” Harry chokes. “Please, please, Jan, please.” 

Jan leans over and kisses the skin behind Harry’s ear. “Be quiet, yes? Dele and Eric are in the room next door.” 

“Doing what?” Harry asks weakly. As if he  _ needs  _ to ask. 

“Doing this,” Jan says, and he slips his finger inside of Harry’s tight opening. Harry’s moans get muffled by Jan’s free hand, which suddenly covers his mouth. 

Harry’s a withering, leaking mess all over the bed as Jan drives his finger into him. He keeps rutting against the mattress because his cock is screaming at him for attention every time Jan brushes against his prostate. He’s never been this…  _ wet  _ before. He’d be a bit ashamed if Jan wasn’t loving it so much. 

“Good?” Jan asks. He curls his finger, experimenting with new ways of unravelling the midfielder. Harry actually worries he won’t be able to hold himself up much longer. 

He’s never felt pleasure like this before and he doesn’t know how to process it all. It’s not just Jan’s finger in his ass, it’s not just the way Jan keeps finding his prostate, it’s Jan’s sturdy legs pressed up against the back of his own, it’s Jan’s hand that’s covering Harry’s mouth and occasionally stopping to let Harry suck on a finger or two. It’s Jan’s navy jumper that’s discarded on the floor next to the bed. It’s Jan’s cock digging into his ass and leaving a sticky mess. 

And it’s also the fact that Dele and Eric are doing the exact same thing next door. 

“Good,” Harry croaks, as if ‘good’ even comes close to how he’s feeling right now. 

Jan fingers him for a solid minute while Harry uses all of his energy and willpower to  _ not  _ come all over himself and the mattress. He bites his lip, his hand, his fingers - anything to draw his attention away from the pleasure that’s bubbling in his lower stomach and threatening to boil over. Just when he thinks he’s got a handle on it and he can take what Jan is doing to him, there’s a new sensation, or Jan’s dick finds the back of his thigh, or Jan’s fingers tug at Harry’s bottom lip. And then it’s almost all over in seconds. He has to muffle his moans into Jan’s hand and press away from the bed, avoiding any friction on his dick whatsoever. Of course, by doing that, he’s just pushing himself further onto Jan’s fingers.

It’s a lose-lose which feels very much like a win-win.

“Jan,  _ Jan, _ ” Harry blurts out. He actually, physically cannot hold himself up any longer. “Gonna fall.” 

Jan slows down his pace and uses his free hand to hold Harry by his chest. “Lean over the bed, no?” 

“Can’t.” Harry’s voice is so pathetic it’s almost a cry. “Can’t… I… if I…” 

“If you what?” Jan prompts, like he isn’t currently massaging Harry’s prostate excruciatingly slowly. 

“If I touch the bed…” 

“Yes?” 

“If I touch the bed I’ll come, Jan,” Harry confesses. “The fiction… it’s- I-” He lets himself go slack in Jan’s arms and Jan steadies him, hums approvingly in his ear again. 

“Come with me,” Jan says. He grants Harry a moment of mercy by removing his finger and walking him across the room to where a few stray chairs have been abandoned by the open windows. It’s getting dark outside. Most of the players will have already left.

“Are you sure, Winksy? That you want to do this?” Jan asks. He lets go of Harry’s hand and Harry frowns at the small, inexplicable loss, but then he composes himself and nods. 

“I want this, Jan,” he whispers. He wishes he had the time to tell Jan just how much he wants this. Instead, he reaches up, braces Jan’s beautiful face in his hands, and kisses him on the mouth. “Don’t you dare leave this room without fucking me.” 

Jan smiles bashfully into the kiss and nods. His hand comes up to the back of Harry’s head again and Harry prepares himself for the affectionate hair tousle, but once again, Jan simply pushes him back down to his knees. Harry should have seen it coming this time. He should have prepared himself for the display of dominance which is making his cock twitch delightedly.

“Get me wet, and then I will fuck you, Harry.” 

_ Harry.  _ His name, in Jan’s mouth. Jan’s dick, in  _ his  _ mouth. This is the best concussion he’s ever had. Even if he wakes up from this, it won’t matter. He’ll commit the taste of Jan’s cock to memory for the rest of his life. 

He does as he’s told. He covers Jan’s dick with saliva and delivers the messy blowjob he’s been dreaming of every night since Athens. Jan doesn’t fuck his mouth this time. This time, he lets Harry do as he pleases. He lets Harry lick the full length of him, lets Harry experiment with sucking his balls, and he lets Harry spit saliva down his cock to make him as wet as possible. 

“Ready?” Jan asks. He pulls out of Harry’s mouth and orders him to lean over the chair a little, tells him to bend over and hold himself up on the arms of the chair. Harry stumbles because he can’t get himself into position quick enough. He’s worried they don’t have enough time, he’s worried Jan didn’t lock the door, he’s worried he’s going to come the moment Jan penetrates him. 

Then, there’s nothing running through Harry’s mind at all. It goes completely blank as Jan leans around to grab Harry’s dick. He roughly collects the embarrassing amount of precome that has dripped from the end of Harry’s cock and he uses it to coat his fingers before pressing them to Harry’s asshole. 

“Ready?” Jan asks again. Harry nods and moans Jan’s name until Jan gives him what he wants - two fingers, pushed inside, opening him up.

Jan gets straight to work scissoring his fingers and Harry accidentally spills a string of expletives into the room.  _ Fuck me, please, please fuck me, Jan, ohgod-, Jan, please, fuck, fuck, I love you.  _

He doesn’t mean for the last one to slip out. Neither of them acknowledge it right now because Jan is done prepping Harry to be fucked and Harry is about to have a serious breakdown if there isn’t a cock in his ass in the next thirty seconds. 

“Fuck me, please, Jan, I’m begging you,” Harry whines. It’s been ten seconds without Jan’s fingers inside of him and all he can hear is the sound of Jan slicking up his cock again. It’s driving him crazy. He needs it. He needs it right now. “ _ Jan! _ ” He pleads.

Harry’s body jerks when he feels the heat of Jan’s dick pressing against him eagerly. It’s all he can do not to just back right onto it and fuck himself crazy. But Jan has perfectly lined himself up, with the head of his cock teasing at Harry’s opening. He knows what he’s doing and he knows this is Harry’s first time, so he’s being careful, even though they really,  _ really  _ don’t have time. 

Harry gasps and winces when Jan steadily breaks the barrier and opens him up, but the coating of Harry’s saliva and Jan’s precome makes the penetration easier. It stings, but Jan is there holding his hips in place, guiding him, muttering sweet nothings about how fucking beautiful Harry is, how perfect his body is, how he’s going to fill him up. Harry’s far too gone to even really register the burning sensation. 

It doesn’t last long, anyway. After a few careful thrusts, the burning sensation begins to melt away, replaced instead by waves of pleasure. Jan is gentle and slow at first, constantly checking in, asking if Harry is okay, if  _ this _ is okay. Harry nods, or whines in the back of his throat, or simply pushes his ass further on to Jan’s dick. 

“Okay,” he manages. As if ‘okay’ even comes close to how he’s feeling right now. 

Jan slams into him with a little more force and Harry swallows down the moans that keep bursting out of him. Jan’s dick is big, bigger than Harry was expecting. It feels like it’s filling him up. Every time it brushes against his prostate, Harry’s worried he won’t be able to stop his orgasm from unravelling. It’s completely out of his control, now. 

They fuck clumsily and messily over the chair until Harry can’t hold himself up anymore, and then Jan pulls out of him, sticks his fingers back inside of him with no warning whatsoever, and spins Harry away from the chair. Harry blindly and desperately reaches for the bed, assuming that that’s where they’ll go, but then he’s suddenly being pulled backwards. And down. Down onto- 

_ Oh.  _

_ Oh, fuck.  _

Jan has seated himself on the chair and pulled Harry straight back down onto his dick. Harry sinks onto it with ease but has to bite the back of his hand again to stop the orgasm from erupting inside of him. The toe-curling pleasure won’t let up - he’s been on the edge ever since Jan plunged two fingers inside of him.  _ I’m not going to last much longer,  _ he thinks to himself. 

Thankfully, Jan doesn’t either. He sits on the chair and moans into the back of Harry’s neck whilst Harry does his best to ride him. He’s never done anything like this before, so he doesn’t know if he’s even doing it right, but it feels good for him and Jan’s cock is twitching inside of him, so Harry takes that as a good sign. He plants his feet firmly on the floor, leans forward a little, and bounces himself up and down on Jan’s cock, sometimes easing Jan’s length almost the whole way out of him before sinking back down again. 

The moans that fill the room are guttural, carnal. Harry doesn’t know if they belong to him or Jan. He doesn’t know if it matters. 

“Jan, I-  _ please, _ ” Harry says suddenly. Jan’s cock has brushed his prostate one too many times and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold off. His dick is leaking between his legs, slowly pooling precome on Jan’s thigh. “Please touch me.”

Jan reaches around and grabs Harry’s cock. He sits upright, and just like that, he’s in control again. He fucks into Harry with intent and purpose. It’s hot and rough and wet. Harry can feel how slick Jan’s cock is inside of him and it’s making his own dick throb with the need to come. 

Everything is blurry around the edges again. Harry’s pulse is roaring in his ears. He’s so close, so fucking close, and then Jan swipes his thumb over Harry’s slit and hits his prostate at the same time. 

“ _ Jan! _ ” Harry cries out. His body jerks as his orgasm takes over. It uncoils like a wave, and then another, and another. The come spurts out of his cock and spills into Jan’s fist before he can stop it. 

His mind his blank, his body spent and boneless. He can’t move, can’t talk, can’t muster a single thought. All he knows is that Jan is fucking him harder and faster, and he’s grunting in Harry’s ear, burying his face in the side of Harry’s head and neck. He sucks a bruise into the skin and laps at it with his tongue. His hands become more frantic on Harry’s chest and stomach and hips. He’s losing control.

“ _ Winksy. _ ”

There it is. With that one word,  _ Wingsey,  _ Jan comes undone. Harry squeezes himself around Jan’s dick one last time as he feels a warmth erupting inside of him. Jan’s body jerks a few times, and then he stills, his mouth panting against the side of Harry’s neck where a pink love bite serves as the only evidence that this really did happen. That, and the fact that Harry’s asshole is currently filled with Jan’s semen.

It takes both of them a few minutes to come back around. Harry’s slumped with his back to Jan’s chest, eyes closed and a content smile playing on his lips. He doesn’t want to ever move from this position. He doesn’t care that it’s over now. He wants to keep Jan’s dick buried inside of him forever. 

Jan trails lazy kisses down the side of Harry’s neck. 

“Good?” He asks. 

Harry hums under his breath. He’s waited two weeks for Jan to make good on his promise. He’s waited four months for Jan to realise that Harry has an overwhelming crush on him. And he’s waited about five years to be fucked like this.

Harry turns his head and so that his lips can meet Jan’s. He kisses the corner of Jan’s mouth and smiles against it. 

“Good,” he says happily, as if ‘good’ even comes close to how he feels right now. 

**Author's Note:**

> Part two coming soon (and this time, Harry just goes to Jan's room...)


End file.
